


The Hellhound in the Garden

by shadhahvar



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angel Victor Nikiforov, Angel Wings, Angel/Demon Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Hellhounds, Incubus Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Victuri Gift Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-11 01:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12924690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadhahvar/pseuds/shadhahvar
Summary: A vignette in the lives of half-Angelos Victor Nikiforov and Daimon Yuuri Katsuki, makers and sellers of charms.Victor's moulting and in self-elected exile working in the garden of the cottage he shares with his lover, Yuuri, when he receives a surprising visitor: a crying hellhound.(An Angels and Demons AU set on another world without a true Heaven or Hell.)





	The Hellhound in the Garden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vallaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vallaria/gifts).



> Happy holidays, Vallaria, and I hope you enjoy this sweet, silly story! I tried to combine elements of two of your requests with one of your listed favourite genres, hopefully to amusing ends. I can pretty easily imagine these two frolicking in flower meadows all on their own... let me know if that's anything you'd be interested in reading!
> 
> I hope you have the best of the next year, and may all good things and happy memories come your way!
> 
> This was part of the Victuri Gift Exchange 2017, and will be added back to the collection should it become open and revealed in the near future.

Victor sat back on his heels, adjusting his garden gloves caked in dirt, sun warm on his back. The broad woven hat that kept his face in gentler shade did nothing to keep him from sweating; one of the many small and bothersome details he suffered as half-Angelos, rather than full blooded Angelos.

He dragged the back of a wrist across his forehead, wiping away sweat and leaving another streak of dirt he’d have to wash away later. Right now his satisfaction was bound up in the small pile of choking weeds he’d pulled out of the ground, leaving the prettier ones that weren’t as virulent scattered with the flowers and bushes and ferns in the barely controlled chaos of their garden. Fat, happy bumble bees buzzed past as they visited petals and carried off pollen to their next stop; hummingbirds darted between waving branches and fronds to dip in and sample the nectar that they needed to survive. They were beautiful birds, small creatures that he could coax to land on his hand when he poured sugar water into his palm. Their bright reds and greens and golds and blues on tiny, perfect feathers made for plumage far lovelier than his own. Especially right then.

Victor was in the middle of his annual moulting, forcing his wings to stay manifested while old feathers dropped off and new feathers pushed through to itchy relief. In his opinion it was a hassle, an unavoidable part of his life from the earliest recollection, along with the week-long home-stay and the ritual burning of his shed feathers. As half-Angelos, his shed feathers didn’t reduce to dust naturally on their own. Perpetually white in colouration, Victor found his plumage not quite as striking as he’d wish, unlike the variegated plumage found on those with Daimon heritage with likewise feathered wings. _No point in crying over what won’t change._ Even his attempt at dyeing had gone to waste when his inborn magic purified his plumage back to its original pristine white within hours of being stained a startling, brilliant purple.

He stretched his wings as he pushed upward, rocking back on his heels and surveying the garden as a whole. Annuals and perennials mingled in happy abandon, waving their riotous colours in the breeze that wove between them. The sunflowers closer to the cottage had their faces turned upward, tracking the sun’s progress across the sky. Victor looked forward to harvesting their seeds come fall, along with the vegetables and squash planted in the raised beds around back. He hadn’t figured himself for a green thumb until last year, when he’d started trying. 

Makkachin, his aging poodle, wagged her tail as she sniffed at the base of the tomato trellises, nosing through the leaves. She pulled her head back, sneezing as she encountered one of the little cat-deterrent charms that Victor had assembled alongside his lover as they made their move into the charm-selling business. Yuuri was currently in town taking care of their scant grocery needs for the week, picking up what they didn't manage to grow or make on their own.

He folded his wings again, sighing as he caught sight of the feathers that had strewn over the moss underfoot while he’d been stretching. Ducking down, he collected them into one of the pouches at his belt. Yuuri had a gift for fire; he’d wait for him to return home before handling this latest batch.

He called Makkachin to him as he rounded toward the back of the house, walking by the scalloped edge of the large round bathing pool. While not necessary when Victor could choose to apparate his wings, a proper Angelos bathing pool was invaluable when he could not. Moulting was one of those times. He remembered Yuuri’s expression when Victor had first brought the necessity up, the rapid blinking and blankness before understanding crept in. “You know, my family runs one of the oldest hot spring baths in my hometown.”

It’d been the first time he’d had spoken much about his family, the majority which lived deep in the Daimon demesne. Victor had perked up with interest, leaning forward in his chair to fix Yuuri with his avid gaze. “Oh?”

Yuuri had said little more, nodding and looking up from his laptop, where he was taking inventory. “Mm. We had an outdoor bath for those who were looking to stretch and bathe their wings. I used that bath more than a time or two. Anyway, I have an idea of a design that should work, if you didn’t have one in mind already.”

Victor had smiled and pushed up to his feet, circling around to Yuuri’s back and draping himself over his shoulders. Pressing a kiss to his temple, he made a small noise of pleasure even as Yuuri’s face slowly turned red, lips pulling up into a misleadingly shy smile in return. _Happy_. They were both so happy. “I trust whatever you have in mind. Most the ones in the Aeries are carved out of natural springs and caves.” Angelos settlements were preferentially near cliffsides, mountains, hills, or regions known for strong thermals. It added to their element of relative mystery compared to Daimon and Anthropos, when few of the other peoples enjoyed quite the same locations. Too cold, too remote, too difficult to access. Angelos seemed to almost uniformly reject certain modern conveniences, which Victor not so privately attributed to antiquated governing traditions and a false sense of magical superiority.

Even if Angelos _were_ the fastest messengers on planet, and some of the most adept at weather influencing and earth-sculpting.

Victor had worked with the team he and Yuuri had contracted to help with digging out the bath and drilling down to the underlying water sources. He used subtle earth-shaping magic to coax one of the natural hot-springs into splitting off and bringing them fresh, hot water infused with a local collection of minerals. It happened in the two days before they should have been drilling down to the level of the underlying water table, though Victor had been appropriately _delighted_ and surprised alongside Yuuri when the team confessed the good news.

Yuuri had given him a dry look, and Victor had lavished him with attention and adoration that evening. “I thought you were afraid of using more of your magic,” Yuuri had said, torn between concern and consternation, then laughter, as Victor insisted on nuzzling his ear. “Stop that!”

“Do you really want me to?” he’d asked at the time, unsurprised when Yuuri had pulled him around and started peppering kisses across Victor’s face.

“No, but you’re not going to distract me from the point,” Yuuri said. 

Victor hummed an acknowledgement, capturing Yuuri’s lips in a kiss when he could. Yuuri was stubborn enough Victor knew they wouldn’t avoid the conversation, but riding on his happy victory and wanting to indulge in the good emotions before buckling down to the reality he tackled relentlessly on the daily felt more important. “I know. We’ll talk about it in the morning. Right now, there’s another hunger I’d rather feed.”

Yuuri had shivered, biting down on his lip as his eyes darkened. Desire and the magical hunger that burned within him required a different fuel than the day-to-day necessity of his physical body, part of what Yuuri had long been resigned to be at odds with in his own nature. He’d always handled it, in his own ways, but it’d taken meeting Victor for the two of them to find a measure of peace in the parts of their hearts that had previously gone unexplored. They’d always been complete, Victor supposed, but they were more than themselves when they were together compared to when they were on their own.

Victor, the half-Angelos, and Yuuri, the Incubus. Epithets that had very little to do with who they were, but to certain sectors of their respective societies, meant _everything_.

Victor let the memory slip away as he admired the steam rising off the pool’s surface, glad to soon be soaking away the aches and pains that plagued him. As much as he loved working in the garden, it wasn’t as enjoyable when he had to support the full weight of his wings the whole time. His neck and shoulders and chest and back and, as far as he was concerned, just about everything _else_ ended up screeching in painful protest. He couldn’t wait for this moult to be over.

He figured that’s how he felt every moult, which prompted him into snorting his amusement, turning toward the cabin. He should grab a change of clothing, find his clean towels, and see about getting started on the evening meal. It was his turn tonight, but with how long everything took when he was moving slowly, getting a head start while Yuuri was still out at market only made sense.

Victor felt his mood lighten again thinking about Yuuri, thinking about his upcoming hot bath, thinking about the continued early success of their charm business. Everything was going so well. He was the happiest he’d ever been, regardless of the difficulties that’d followed them in getting there. His optimism made him radiant, a soft glow that emanated from his skin and feathers alike. For once, he didn’t even mind that his heritage could make his moods this visible if he wasn’t careful about his control. He _wanted_ everyone to know how much happiness Yuuri brought into his life. 

A frantic bark from Makkachin was his only warning before his world got a whole lot hairier.

* * *

Yuuri adjusted the strap on his shopping bag, hooking it over his shoulder as he offered their favourite baker a strained smile and tried to leave her shop for what felt like the tenth time in the last ten minutes. “Really, I’ll let Victor know how well the charms have been working.”

“You’ll let him know I want to purchase more of that hand cream too?” She grinned, rubbing her hands in a remembered response.

“Yes, I will. I won’t forget, Mrs. Lindberg. My regards to your wife.” Finally pushing out through the door and back to the sidewalk, Yuuri hurriedly bustled on, breathing out in a sigh of relief when no one came barreling after him, trying to flag him down. He was glad their local community valued their charm business, including the creams and lotions and scents Victor enjoyed playing master alchemist with. Yuuri didn’t have a head for any of the chemistry himself, though he enjoyed the end results almost as much as he enjoyed accompanying Victor on his trips out to gather particular supplies from locations they only reached on wing.

Victor managed people interfacing much better than Yuuri did, but it wasn’t wise to force him to galavant around in public during a moult. For one, Victor liked to downplay his own heritage as much as possible, which became downright impossible when his wings had to stay forcibly manifested. While even that could be attributed to certain Daimon traits, the tendency for Victor to luminesce in pleasure and happiness pointed right toward the Angelos. They were the only species that literally glowed with emotion. Or burned with passion, if it were strong enough. For another, Victor tended to want to stay in nesting, for a lack of a better word. Yuuri hadn’t understood the first time it’d happened, so little being recorded about Angelos moulting habits. Daimon needs for the same process were different.

Only the amount of sleeping and eating Victor did was about the same as what Yuuri had expected. Trying to make up for the amount of energy that went into growing new feathers seemed to be a universal trial. How much easier it was to simply have wings like his own, warm skin stretched between strong and delicate fingers of bone splaying out to either side.

Yuuri shook off those thoughts as he headed for the trolley station. Hitching a ride toward the outskirts of town would bring him home faster, and it was a pleasant enough afternoon. Yuuri could bring back stories of whatever he’d seen along the way to add to the ones about who had stopped him and why. While Yuuri didn’t share his lover’s enjoyment in hearing about the mundane details of day to day life, he adored the way Victor watched him when he spoke, and so Yuuri was dutiful in his retellings. He’d learned to find an equal pleasure in Victor’s story-sharing, even if most the time it was because he appreciated listening to Victor speak, and not because Yuuri particularly cared for the details in what Victor was saying about other people.

His phone sang in his pocket, the crystal-powered technology fitting easily into Yuuri’s hand when he pulled it free. His grocery bag tried to slip down his arm, Yuuri attempting to pull the straps back up again as he answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Yuuri!” Victor sounded strained, saying his name with an undertone of relief. “Thank the skies you answered!”

“Victor, what’s wrong? What’s going on?” Adrenaline surged through him, putting him on instant alert. He had to fight hard to keep himself from spontaneously manifesting his own wings, horns, and tail; a lifetime response to extreme shifts in emotions. He was more than well-fed enough to suffer very little magical cost from the transformation.

It was not, however, often the wisest reaction.

“Ah, it’s kind of hard to explain, but I have a bit of a question for you. Do you know how I can close a portal to the Daimon demesne?”

“A what?”

“There’s a portal in the garden that’s threatening to level the flowerbeds. How do I close it?” 

Yuuri could hear Makkachin barking in the background along with the strained sounds of a localised windstorm. Listening even closer, he could hear mournful, garbled howling. “Victor! Shit, you can’t… did anything come through it?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, I think it’s a hellhound? It keeps howling. Possibly crying, I’m not sure, maybe it just has allergies. It’s over by the tomatoes. Anyway, Yuuri, I need to get this portal closed—”

“What do you mean, there’s a hellhound there?!” Yuuri’s voice was growing steadily louder; he forcibly clamped down on his instinct to break into a run and get home, right now. He knew Victor was more than capable of handling himself; Victor was older than Yuuri and had done perfectly fine for all his life before they’d met, but the surge of fierce protectiveness that coursed through him didn’t care about details like _logic_ or _common sense_. “And what do you mean it’s crying!”

“Yuuri, please, the portal.”

His mind scrambled, trying to guess what had launched this newest offense at their carefully crafted peace. A single hellhound was an odd choice to send, especially if it was sitting there yowling. Then again, maybe the goal of the whole ordeal was to trap them in noise complaints from their neighbours. “Portals are linked to whatever opened them, see if… is there a collar on the hellhound? A toy? Anything?”

“I’ll go look.” Ostensibly, Victor must have been getting closer, because the howling grew louder. It was also starting to sound terribly familiar.

“ _Yuuuuuuuriiiiiiii! Yuuuuuuuuuriiiiiiiii!_ ”

 _That can’t possibly be_ —

“I don’t see a collar,” Victor said, interrupting Yuuri’s thoughts. “There’s nothing by its feet, it’s just sitting there, crying. Howling.”

“I can’t believe this,” Yuuri muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as he ducked into an alley. 

“Neither can I,” Victor said, misleadingly affable, “But that’s not helping me figure out how to _close the portal_ , Yuuri.”

“I know, I know. Look, can you put the phone on speaker for a moment? There’s something I want to try.”

Victor must have found the request absurd, but from the subtle shift in the quality of sound, Yuuri could tell his lover had listened anyway. “Okay. You’re on speaker now.” 

Yuuri set his grocery bag on the ground, frowning and forcing himself to breathe evenly instead of panic. If this didn’t work, then they were really in deep shit. There was only one hellhound that might have shown up that wouldn’t spell instant trouble for the both of them. If Yuuri was right, they’d still be facing trouble, but at a slight delay.

“Vicchan?” Yuuri said, getting both a strained, “Yes?” out of Victor, and a sudden break in the howling from the hellhound.

“Vicchan, it’s okay.” This time Victor didn’t respond. The hellhound did.

“ _Yuuuuriiiii! Yuuuuuriiiiii!”_ The crying tone to its howling took on a different tone, sounding closer to _happier_ tears. 

“Yuuri, do you _know_ this hellhound?”

The leading edge of his panic lost momentum, but his adrenaline levels were still off the charts. “I’ll explain when I get there. Victor, is there any way you can dump him in the bathing pool?”

“Dump him in the bathing pool. A hellhound that has to weigh as much as I do without wings.” Victor sighed, the howling for _Yuuuuuuuriiiiiii_ continuing on in the background. Then he started laughing, a low chuckle that even now almost provoked an answering sheepish grin from Yuuri. “Okay, okay. I’ll figure it out. Is this going to do anything about the portal?”

“It should cut out as soon as you have him in there. He never was any good at concentrating once he got w-e-t.”

“You owe me for this, Yuuri.” The mock-severe tone softened as he added, “Come home soon.”

“I will,” he said, and they disconnected the line. Yuuri tossed his phone into the grocery bag, pulling his light sweater and shirt up and over his head. Clothing didn’t always survive a transformation in any state to be worn again. Glasses knocked askew by the sudden half-undressing, Yuuri righted them on the bridge of his nose. Long habit had him tucking both shirt and sweater into the same bag as their groceries before he called on his magic, feeling the skin on his back burn for the few seconds before his bat-like wings burst out. They were massive, almost as broad in reach as Victor’s own wings, a dark black in the shadows that matched the shade of his hair. Keeping his tail from manifesting was an effort of willpower, but Yuuri sincerely didn’t feel like flying home pantless. 

He ran his hands over the horns that curled back from his forehead, forgetting at first he didn’t have uninterrupted access to his hair. Cursing under his breath, Yuuri gave up the attempt to calm himself down any further before taking flight. He grabbed the handles of his grocery bag and jumped skyward, powerful motions of his wings sending him up into the bright afternoon skies, angling for home.

The sight that greeted him when he flew over the cabin was absurd even when he was expecting it. Victor stood in the middle of their bathing pool, white wings spread wide for balance, feathers littering the surface of the water. A large black and red canine-like creature was clutched in his arms, shivering and whining. Yuuri couldn’t make out what Victor was saying to Vicchan from where he was, but as he hit the ground and let the grocery bag fall from his hand, he heard snippets of whining and Victor’s cajoling replies. 

“ _Waaaawer. Waaaawer! Noooooo waaaawer. Yuuuuuuuriiiii?””_

“Yes, that’s right, Yuuri will be here soon.”

“Victor! Vicchan!”

The hellhound’s head came up, triangular ears swiveling toward the sound of Yuuri’s voice. He thrashed wildly, Victor’s wings beating in response as he fought to stay balanced. Catching sight of Yuuri at the side of the pool, Victor finally let go of the hellhound, letting the single-minded creature splash down into the water. The hellhound was completely submerged for a few heartbeats. When his head broke the surface again, he paddled madly toward Yuuri, calling out the whole time.

“ _Yuuuuuriiii! Yuuuuuuriiiii!”_

Tail wagging, the hellhound bounded out of the hot spring and crashed into Yuuri, water flying every which way. He set to licking and barking, sounding for the first time like an actual dog. Victor watched with a flat look from where he stood in the middle of the pool, bedraggled and soaked.

“Vicchan, yes it’s me, will you, yes, yes, hello, I know, I missed you too. _Vicchan_. _Off._ ”

The hellhound whined, reluctant, but allowed Yuuri to push him to the side and sit back up. Yuuri dematerialized his wings, sitting there wet, topless, and pinned under Victor’s unimpressed look.

He smiled, albeit awkwardly, and reached out to rest a hand on Vicchan’s head, pushing the hellhound down toward the ground. Vicchan went without comment, tail still wagging across the decorative stone lining the outside of the pool. “Victor, meet Vicchan. Vicchan… meet Victor.”

Turning his head under Yuuri’s palm, Vicchan’s tail continued its mad wagging. He barked a simple hello.

“Yuuri.”

“Yes?”

“There’s hellhound fur clogging up the hot spring.”

They stared at each other in mutual silence for another beat before Victor continued.

“Dinner’s going to be your responsibility tonight.”

* * *

Even working together, it took hours to clean up the chaos in the garden where the portal had been opened, collecting all the feathers that’d been shed while Victor wrestled with the hellhound problem and cleaning out the spring so Victor could take a proper bath. Yuuri managed to muddle together dinner and fed them both, but in the aftermath, it was time to talk. Victor was in his favourite comfy moulting sweater, tied snug around his neck and wrapped around one side, buttons holding it closed. An knit shawl draped over his shoulders and across the base of his wings kept him nice and cozy. He sat on the backless chair, holding a hefty mug of tea in his hands. Yuuri fidgeted, reflexively petting the hellhound’s head where it lay resting in his lap. Makkachin sniffed at the hellhound’s side before retiring to the far end of the couch with a huff.

“He can’t stay like this,” Victor said at length, feeling much better after having finally being able to bathe properly. Moulting left him wanting to curl up in a pile of blankets and push everything off to deal with whenever it was over. Life was rarely so polite, and he didn’t actually care to shove off for tomorrow what was better handled today.

“I know.”

“He’s unregistered, and last I knew, hellhounds were one of the regulated species not supposed to cross borders without permission.”

“That’s why I’d left him back with my parents.” Yuuri cast a glance down at Vicchan, who only wagged his tail in response. “Which he’s well aware of, isn’t he?”

Vicchan didn’t even bother looking contrite.

Victor smiled in spite of himself, shaking his head and taking a sip of tea. “There’s only one thing to do for it, in that case.”

Yuuri held himself still, eyes flicking up to Victor’s face, then away again. “I…”

Victor continued on, blithely interrupting Yuuri. “He’ll have to take on an acceptable form, and then he can stay.” 

Yuuri blinked, then outright stared at Victor in surprise. “Wait, what?”

Victor’s lips twitched up into a fond smile, his eyes straying to Makkachin. She wagged her tail, making her way toward him, sitting at his side. “Pets are part of the family too. Vicchan, do you understand why you can’t keep looking like that? You stand out in a way that will make people want to keep you and Yuuri apart.”

Vicchan whined, nuzzling into Yuuri’s lap. “ _Yuuuuriiii._ ”

Nodding slowly, Victor lowered his tea toward his lap. “Yes, Yuuri. Our Yuuri. Now if, on the other hand, you looked like the dogs expected in this part of the world… like Makkachin here, only maybe smaller…” He trailed off, fixing Yuuri’s hellhound with a steady look.

Yuuri held quiet, eyebrows inching upward. Reasoning with hellhounds was difficult. They were notoriously stubborn, and unfortunately not often as intelligent as they were cunning. They also tended to choose their owners; Vicchan was as much an accident of Yuuri’s youth as he was a longtime companion.

Vicchan slowly lifted his head and turned his muzzle toward Victor, red eyes regarding him, then Makkachin at his side. Breathing in, he sighed heartily, as if he was terribly put upon. His eyes slammed shut and he started whining, tail-tip twitching as magic hummed through the room.

Then with an audible pop, a much smaller poodle with darker brown fur than Makkachin’s was at Yuuri’s feet. Red eyes blinked once, then faded into a more acceptable deep red, easier to mistake as a peculiar sort of brown. Leaping up into Yuuri’s lap, Vicchan wagged his considerably shorter tail and panted, showing off a canine grin.

He barked, and Victor nodded and grinned. “Wow! Amazing!” He glanced at Yuuri, catching his astonished look, grin softening into a smile. “It’s one of the oldest stories I know. Hellhounds having to adapt their form to what their companions needed most.”

Yuuri laughed, arms circling Vicchan and pulling him tight against his chest. “Another poodle?”

Victor lifted his tea, using it to gesture toward Yuuri and Vicchan. “I like poodles, you like poodles, no one’s going to be all that surprised when we have two instead of one. Besides, it’s not like we can send Vicchan back. He’d just show up again, and this time take out even more of the garden.” Victor gave a pragmatic shrug of his shoulders, his wings lifting in an exaggeration of the motion. “Welcome home, Vicchan.”

Yuuri set his hellhound-turned-poodle to the side, standing up to take the three steps between them. His hands cupped either side of Victor’s face, leaning down to capture his lips with a gentle, sweet kiss. Victor closed his eyes, returning the kiss, a soft glow starting to luminesce on his skin. When Yuuri pulled back, Victor opened his eyes again, blinking as his lover’s forehead pressed against his own.

“You’re glowing.” Yuuri smiled, eyes glistening with a telling dampness. Victor nestled his tea in his lap, reaching up to cup the side of Yuuri’s face, the soft glow growing.

“Yeah. Wonder why that is,” he said, lips curling up into a soft, warm smile. “I love you, Yuuri. Surprise hellhounds and all.”

Yuuri breathed in sharp, expression crumbling into a fondness too full to be held in his chest alone. He shifted forward, clinging to Victor in a hug made awkward by the angle. Victor returned his embrace without hesitation, wings opening to fan out and encircle the two of them in a warm sea of soft, white feathers. “I love you too.”

* * *

Makkachin stood, ambling toward the couch as Yuuri’s shoulders shook in free flowing emotion. Vicchan started to slide off the couch, but the older poodle’s paw came down across his back, keeping him in place. She eyed him, tongue lolling, and breathed out in a huff.

Some dogs simply needed a little more guidance than others realising what helped keep their people happiest. Right now their people needed each other more than they needed to be interrupted by them. Still, for all the new dog had gone from being large and stinky in a confusing way to _smaller_ and stinky in a familiar-but-also-confusing way, she leaned over and gave him a conciliatory lick on the snout.

_Welcome home._

**Author's Note:**

> Shorthand glossary for the fun of it all:
> 
>  _Angelos_ \- white-winged humanoid persons bearing striking similarities to angels from Earth cultures of the late 20th and early 21st centuries, displaying inherent "light" magical talents with a tendency to glow when experiencing strong emotions
> 
>  _Anthropos_ \- humanoid persons with no inherent magical properties, but great capacity to _learn_ magic; most prolific group with the highest adaptability and greatest flexibility to deal with change
> 
>  _Daimon_ \- varied humanoid persons displaying inherent "dark" magical talents, bear similarities to various "demons" from Earth cultures of the 20th and 21st centuries; often sustained by combinations of normal sustenance and life-energy consumption
> 
>  _Hellhound_ \- a sapient symbiotic species found in the Daimon demesne, capable of limited speech, spellwork, and shapeshifting
> 
> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments. ❤


End file.
